


I Have Everything I Wanted

by freshhippiehell



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, a lot of this is taken from me rambling in the notes of my phone, and there's not enough interactions between her and bow bc they're my bbies, i haven't written fanfiction since middle school i hate myself too dw, listen i just need catra to know shes loved, please be kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshhippiehell/pseuds/freshhippiehell
Summary: Catra just wants to know if she's changed.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108





	I Have Everything I Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this from one of my finsta posts about thunder storms. i think it's more cathartic than anything else. title from phoebe bridger's garden song.

Why is Catra suddenly afraid of thunderstorms? Is it because the noise shocks her out of whatever fragile state she’s living in, only to remind her that she is a creature that exists and therefore has responsibilities and needs and hopes and dreams and crippling fears of the present and future? Is it because it’s preventing her from sleeping so she has no choice but to spiral down places she’d rather not be? Is it because she feels like the world isn’t real, like the room she’s in could disappear at any moment, leaving her out in the unrelenting rain, alone and cold and unbelievably scared? 

She stops herself from rolling over in bed, not wanting to disturb Adora. Adora would be patient and kind and gentle, and all Catra wants right now is to stew in her frustration. The thunder cracks again, shaking the walls, and Catra nearly jumps ten feet in the air. Stupid Adora for being able to sleep through anything. Catra’s nerves are too frazzled, her heart beating too fast. Why? They won. They can finally rest. They can finally be together. But something doesn’t feel right. 

Catra slowly slips out of bed, the sounds of her feet on the floor masked by another clap of thunder. She pads out of their room and down the hall, purple lightning periodically painting the walls in an otherworldly glow. They won. She won. So why isn’t she happy? Would she even recognize herself if she was? She wants to scream, to open her mouth and let out whatever sounds need to leave her body. Maybe the tension in her shoulders would leave too. Shadow Weaver is gone. She’s out of the Fright Zone. She’s not fighting for the right to exist anymore. So why isn’t she happy? She has Adora. She has a home. She has a family. So why isn’t she happy? Too much changed all at once. But this was always how it was supposed to happen. That realization shakes her almost as much as the booming outside. The endgame was always Adora, in one way or another. As she walks, her frustration only grows. 

Catra locks eyes with a small figure down the hall. The shape is blurry, but as it steps closer, Catra recognizes the hair and the dumb crop top. When another flash of lightning illuminates the hallway, there’s no doubting that the figure in front of her is Bow. And he looks just as tired as she feels. Well, it is the middle of the night, so that’s to be expected. But it’s not just on the surface; it’s a bone-deep exhaustion that manifests in half-lidded eyes and slumped shoulders. In deep breaths and short tempers. What could possibly have gotten him so rattled? 

Neither of them speaks, each waiting for the other to bite the bullet and go first. Maybe it’s the fact that everything seems to be spinning around her and she’s lost all sense of reality, or maybe it’s because the staring is too uncomfortable, but she finally mumbles a soft, “hey.” Bow smiles a little and looks her over. Thunder pounds its fists on the castle walls. Catra’s teeth rattle. Lightning shimmies across the walls and ceiling. Bow crumbles in on himself a little further. Catra’s eyes drift to the floor, so she’s utterly unprepared for the feeling of Bow’s arms wrapping around her. She’s stiff, silent, and tense. And then she’s crying. 

She cries for Adora, for the time they wasted trading blows and hurling nasty words. She cries for Scorpia, for how badly she treated her. She cries for Shadow Weaver, for the only mother figure she ever knew, and for all the terrible things she did to try to break Catra into nothing. She cries for herself, past and present, for thinking herself unworthy, for not being able to shake that even now. She cries and cries and cries, until her thoughts become less coherent and the tears come just because it’s the only way for her to handle what she’s feeling. Most of all, she sets her jaw and cries because she should be fine. Why isn’t she happy? Why can’t she shut everything up and just be happy? For once in her life, why can’t she just enjoy where she is? 

She has everything she wants, and she can’t for the life of her explain why it feels so wrong. She feels like she should be in mourning. She's wracked with unbearable grief, but she doesn’t know what it’s for, so she just flounders around all knotted up inside, unraveling at the worst moments.

It’s only when she calms down that she hears Bow crying too. Softer than she is, but he’s definitely crying. She scrunches her brows and debates pushing him away so she can look at his face. But his arms are like steel around her, so she just pats his back like Adora or Glimmer might. Finally he lets her go, and she locks her knees to prevent herself from turning tail and sprinting away. 

Bow puts his hand on her shoulder. There’s no ulterior motive in his eyes. Catra wishes there was. That would be easier than the genuine concern she sees there. He rubs his eyes and fixes her with another small smile. No doubt Glimmer is sleeping soundly back in the room he came from. Catra expects a dumb joke, some effort to cheer them both up that would only fall flat. But instead he just says, “me too.” The air leaves her lungs, and she deflates. The tension finally leaves her. Suddenly, it hits her. Bow understands her. Not in the way that Adora understands her past, not in the way Scorpia or Double Trouble understood her goals back in the Fright Zone, and certainly not in the way Shadow Weaver pretended to care. Bow understands her inability to sit still now that everything has just… stopped. Catra sees him, off in the corner, always tinkering with something, always entertaining someone, always hatching a rescue plan. She offhandedly remembers something Adora once said about his dads, and how he wasn’t supposed to do any of this. He was raised to be content with his head in a book somewhere, but he fancied himself a fighter, a rebel, a source of hope, so that’s what he made himself. Catra was raised to be content as the second, following orders and congratulating Adora when she succeeded. Not that she blames Adora for that anymore. But just like Bow dreamt of something unheard of to those who taught him, Catra dreamt of a life of her own. At first she’d thought that meant accumulating power. But she got power and only got stepped on. So she searched for more, more people to fear her, more people to convince her she was worth something. She thought she could be satisfied. She thought she could be whole. 

There’s no need for any of that now, so she’s left to find self worth elsewhere. Adora certainly helps her, shows her she’s good and strong and capable of change. Even still, she needs a purpose. Bow made his own purpose, surrounded himself with people he loved. Maybe Catra could find purpose through love too. But then why is Bow so upset? 

They're both grieving. They're all grieving, in a way, but them more so than the others. Everything seemed so simple in the field: the four of them together, the Best Friend Squad. The possibilities were endless. Then night fell. Uncertainty always turns to turmoil when night falls. Catra sucks in a breath. She doesn’t look at his face when she speaks. She can’t. “What if I’m not what I think I am? Does that make me a bad person? To be wrong?” 

Bow stills only for a second, then his Best Friend Squad reflexes kick in despite the situation they’re in and he once again takes on the role of mediator, comforter, guardian to those who would do harm to themselves. “It didn’t take long for it to all catch up with me, you know?” Catra wants to scream. What does this have to do with anything? She gets it, sure, but she’s really trying here. “I was mad for a long time. Longer than I said I was. At Glimmer, at the universe, probably at you too. Definitely at you too.” He chuckles, but there’s no humor there. "It doesn’t escape me that I’m the one responsible for everyone else. Glimmer's the queen, but I'm the counselor. They slip, and I put them back together. But if I slip, who’s there to help me?” Catra opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She closes it dumbly and Bow charges ahead. “It’s like I’m not allowed to be angry. And that makes me angry. Does that make sense?”

All Catra can say is a tired “yeah.”

“Being mad at Glimmer was hard for both of us. But it needed to happen. I don’t think anyone sees me as someone capable of messing up, of being mad, of doing things for the wrong reasons. And I think for you it’s the opposite, huh?” Bow puts a hand on her shoulder. It’s nice, non-threatening. Two things Catra doesn’t feel like she has the right to be. She couldn’t ever get anywhere being nice. No one took her seriously. Bow couldn’t get anywhere being cruel. No one would take him seriously. They both thrive on conflict, but in very different ways. “I guess what I’m trying to say is no, you are not a bad person.” 

Catra’s uncomfortable by the way his words make her feel, so she does what she always does: she deflects. ‘Does that mean you are?” A crack of thunder sends a shiver down her spine to accentuate just how much she was purposefully ignoring the point. 

“No. But thinking in terms of good and bad doesn’t work. It’s hard with so many battles to fight, but now that we’ve calmed down, we have time. We are not good or bad, we just are. No one’s given you a chance to just exist yet.” Catra finally looks at him. His eyes are glassy but he's smiling, and he doesn’t look as bone-tired. 

She forces something of a hmph out of her mouth. “Adora says I’m good. I don’t know if I believe her yet. I know she’s good. But she’s always been good. Stupid Adora.” 

“Adora’s a person. I’m a person, you’re a person, Glimmer’s a person, Scorpia’s a person. We’re just people. Some labels don’t do us any favors, like good and bad. Those are words of war. We’re finally at peace.” He moves his hand down to squeeze her arm and then lets it drop. 

“We’re finally at peace,” Catra echoes. She doesn’t quite believe it yet, but maybe one day she will.

They stand there in silence for a few moments, stewing in their awkward togetherness. Finally, slowly, Bow turns away. Before he can leave, something bubbles up inside Catra until she’s saying, “They need you, you know. But you need them. They don’t know what they have in your endless ability to care. It’s annoying. But it’s… nice. You don’t have to have all the answers. Adora sure as hell doesn’t, as much as she likes to think she does.” She pauses, then spits the next words out like they scalded her tongue. “And I’ll do it. I’ll help you put yourself back together.” She scrunches her face up in direct contrast to her words, but she means them. She thinks. 

Bow mumbles something about not always minding being the counselor even though it makes him tired. It works but it doesn’t, kind of like their friendship. Then he stalks down the hallway, his exit emphasized by the flashing of purple. He stands up straighter, and he doesn’t stumble quite so much. Catra doesn’t even jump when the thunder booms from every direction. She feels like a shell, but she also feels too full. She feels calm and anxious and uppity and oh so tired all at once. She feels loved but isn’t sure she knows why, or what exactly that feels like, but she knows the feeling is there. And she feels love, for Adora, for her friends, for her new family. Adora was always the endgame. She was always her family. Their family has grown. It is not good or bad, it just is. 

When Catra finally reaches the room she shares with Adora, she finds her sitting up with the light on. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Adora says, patient and kind and gentle. Catra just walks up to her, kisses her softly, turns out the lights, and snuggles closer to her to fend off the storm’s cold. Maybe she has changed. Maybe she is not what she thinks she is. But she is not afraid, because she is not alone. Finally, she is not alone. She does not know if she is happy, but she is lighter, and she is a little less filled with grief. Adora smells like lavender, and the thunder lulls her to sleep.


End file.
